Marked and Unclaimed
by Irvine Cypher
Summary: Dick never thought it'd come to this. Sure, Bruce had fucked his way in and out of society before he took Dick in, but at least he'd been safe. With Clark, however, Bruce may not have been as careful. Maybe because he trusted Clark. He let Clark mark him. Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Language, Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Marked and Unclaimed  
**Fandoms**: Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Superman Returns (2006), Superman - All Media Types, Batman - All Media Types  
**Relationship**: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne  
**Characters**: Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Alfred Pennyworth  
**Additional Tags**: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Mpreg  
**Notes**: Shitty title I know.

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Excerpt for the summary: Dick never thought it'd come to this. Sure, Bruce had fucked his way in and out of society before he took Dick in, but at least he'd been safe. With Clark, however, Bruce may not have been as careful. Maybe because he trusted Clark. He let Clark mark him.

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**More notes**: Just a little drabble, a plot bunny that wouldn't go away. It was supposed to be a long ass fic with the birth and Clark's return and seeing the baby grown up a little and missing his first steps and words and especially realizing that he'd left Bruce, but I'm in deep shit with my thesis and I'm waayyy too lazy right now. The thing about Clark leaving for like five years was taken from Superman Returns. Dick and Alfred are betas, Jason and Clark are alphas, Tim and Bruce are omegas.

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Dick never thought it'd come to this. Sure, Bruce had fucked his way in and out of society before he took Dick in, but at least he'd been safe. With Clark, however, Bruce may not have been as careful. Maybe because he trusted Clark. He let Clark mark him.

And now, just a little after four in the morning, Dick had just gotten out of the cape and cowl, and was about to get some rest. It was something that Bruce refused to give up until he realized that this might be the first and also the last time he's going to be given a chance at continuing his bloodline. And Clark's.

With his uniform set aside and with him dressed in something comfortable to sleep in, he made his up to Bruce's room. After the whole fiasco, and Bruce's early retirement, Alfred thought it would be best for Bruce to withdraw from society and live with his family in peace. An unclaimed omega was dangerous, and since Bruce didn't want that kind of news spreading around, he agreed to living in a remote place in France, where Alfred had bought a nice, not so little vacation house. Bruce didn't even know why Alfred bought a vacation house in France when they didn't even use it.

It had everything they needed, from a bunk under the house to serve as a Cave, a teleportation platform in it if ever Dick came from the Watchtower, or if ever any of them wanted to go home and they didn't have to magically and suspiciously appear in front of the house, and a security system to ward all nearby, if any, Alphas and Betas. And a lot of scent masks. Only the Lord knew what would happen if anyone scented a marked and unclaimed omega.

Dick made his way quietly into the room, and sat on the edge of the bed where Bruce was on his side facing away from the door, wearing a loose shirt and some sweats, with his blanket kicked to the foot of the bed. The young beta smiled fondly, and pressed a hand to Bruce's growing belly. He felt the child shift under the taut skin, and the movement caused Bruce to wake.

"Dick?"

"Hey, Bruce," whispered Dick, "Strong kid in there, huh?"

"Yeah, a little too strong sometimes," Bruce answered sleepily. "Just got back?"

"Uh-huh," replied Dick, getting back on his feet to reach for the covers from Bruce's feet and to pull it over him. "Sorry for waking you. Just wanted to check on you. Cooking that kid must be tiring,"

Bruce changed his position and laid on his side facing Dick. "It's taking too long, but exciting at times, if not too boring," he yawned, "You're not injured are you? Or bleeding?" he tried to sit up.

"Nope, not anything," Dick gently pushed Bruce back down. "Go back to sleep. I patrolled alone tonight. Tim said he got here around eight after some stuff at school, but you were already asleep,"

"You should get some sleep, too," said Bruce as he drifted to sleep again.

Dick just smiled. "Good night, Bruce,"

"Good night, Richard," Bruce said absently before falling asleep.

Alfred, Dick, Jason and Tim didn't do this—taking care of Bruce, making sure he was okay, making sure and trying their best he had at least one of the birds with him at all times—because Bruce was an omega, or that he's on the edge of sanity because his supposed alpha was not there to provide for him. They did it because they loved him more than anything, and because he needed them. Tim was pretty much just bouncing off the walls happy that he was going to be a big brother now.

They just wished Clark would come back home soon. As soon as possible. Even if Clark had already learned so much about Krypton in the AI of the Fortress, nobody knew why he still had to leave to try and see for himself. Nobody knew why he left without saying anything to anybody.

Clark was a physiological match for an alpha, but that didn't make him one. He wasn't drawn to an omega in heat, but Bruce, out of trust, came to him to ask him for help on his heat days. His alien physiology, and Bruce's sheer stubbornness and denial that lead to the failure of the formation of a bond, and for Clark to make his claim. Both were idiots completely head over heels with each other, but neither was stubborn enough to get the other to submit.

Now, Bruce was marked, unclaimed, pregnant, and without an alpha to protect and provide for him.

Only the senior members of the League knew this. Junior and probationary members thought that Batman was this hulking, angry alpha (courtesy scent masks), and it brought amused chuckles to the senior members who knew the truth; they also knew that there was a new Batman. Nobody knew why, and where his predecessor was. They had a new Batman, Superman was inactive, and that was final. All they could do was fill in for Superman.

"He okay?" asked Jason as Dick stepped out of the room. Jason looked dirty and tired, probably had just beamed in from wherever he was beating someone up.

"Yeah," Dick nodded. "You staying?"

Jason nodded. "Probably for a long time, Dickie-bird." He set the Red Helmet down on one of the nearby tables. "Someone's gotta look after both the littlest bird and him. Don't think you'd be having a lot of free time since the promotion,"

Dick chuckled. "Yeah, thanks, Jay," he nodded. "I'll hit the hay. And you better wash up and clean after yourself. Alfred is not gonna be happy you brought rubble and motorcycle oil on your way in,"

"Yeah, yeah," said Jason dismissively. "Go to bed, Hot Wings,"

"He'll be glad to see you again, Jay," said Dick, "And he'll be happy to know that you'll stay,"

"Well, I can't really ignore it. It's this alpha instinct thing going on in my head. It's screaming for me to go home and protect and…fill in for _him_. I'm the only alpha around here. It's driving me crazy, okay!" sighed Jason, "I mean seriously? Who the fuck marks and leaves their heat mate after their heat?! You have no idea how much this makes me angry, Dick. I am seriously angry as fuck. I'll make sure I have enough Kryptonite bullets when he comes back. If he comes back, I'll be ready."

"He won't let you do that. _You_ won't be able to do that. Instinct."

"I KNOW!" Jason angrily whispered. "God, he makes me so pissed. Ugh. Jesus. Go to bed, Dick. Good morning." He went in the nearest room and shut the door.

Dick shook his head and sighed. His little brother was too hot headed, but he guessed he had a reason to be. He too went to bed, and was planning to join everybody for brunch. All they had to do now was stick together, wait for the baby, and love him with all their hearts.

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Please review! I'd love to hear what you think of it. Reviews and faves make me happy. :)


	2. Chapter 2

Unbeta'd. Written at 230 in the morning. I'll probably change the title sooner or later.

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"J'onn," Jason said into his earpiece. "I need Dick down here now," he said urgently. "We need someone to help Alfred and Dr Thompson—" he snaps his head to the direction of the door where he heard Alfred trying to get Tim to calm down. Leslie was behind Bruce, laying some towels between his legs.

Bruce was on his knees on the bed, wearing nothing but a loose, undone plaid shirt—one of Clark's—gripping his shaking thighs as he breathed harshly through another contraction. He let out another moan as he pressed his forehead to Jason's cool, bare chest. "I need to push—I need to…please let me push," he begged as Jason rubbed circles on his back.

"Not yet," said Leslie, moving over to the prepared table near her, where the medical supplies were all laid out. "You'll know when it's time. But just a little bit more, Bruce, and you'll be able to see your baby,"

Jason wasn't sure if he was going to be able to survive the whole thing, but apparently he did. He'd seen Bruce with broken bones and gunshots and stab wounds but those were nothing compared to watching, helping Bruce through contractions that came and went every few minutes with increasing intensity and duration for _hours_.

Sure, a few injuries after a night's patrol would be grunted, moaned and groaned at for a while after treatment but this? Hearing Bruce let out sounds that Jason didn't even know what to call? That he didn't know if it was just pain from the contraction, or if it was his despair in his alpha's absence? Jason wanted to kill _him_. He was going to kick Superman's ass so hard.

"Please," Bruce whispered, then a moment later he let out a sob as another contraction wracked through him. Jason held him as he trembled and sobbed.

"Batman is on his way, Red Hood," said J'onn into his earpiece. "He's at ten minutes ETA, coming from Rhelasia with Wonder Woman."

"D-don't, J'onn," Bruce stammered, "If he's busy don't bother…"

"It's alright," said J'onn, "He had requested that we inform him when you're ready to deliver,"

"Bruce, c'mon, just a little water," Jason wiped the sweat away from Bruce's forehead, and let him sip some water from a straw, and gives him some ice chips to chew on. He holds his father closely and gently, wiping away the sweat and tears from his face with a cool, wet towel.

He'd been in labour for about eight hours now. He was tried, and was close to actually letting Leslie cut him open, but it was too late now. For all he knew the baby had already made its way down his cervix already.

Heh. Cervix. For years and years, ever since he was a child, he'd ignored the slit behind his cock, pretending it, and the reproductive organs inside him, didn't exist, taking as many heat suppressants as possible and now…now it was about to stretch as far as it could go to let his baby—his baby!—pass through.

Oh, _God_, he was going to have a baby.

"Please!" Bruce burst out. He pressed a hand to his firm belly, begging the baby to let him off easy and come out already in his thoughts. There was pressure everywhere, and the overwhelming urge to push was too much.

Jason reddened when Bruce's moans turned a little sexual. Leslie did warn him that labour and birth was going to stimulate the same organs stimulated during sex. He grabbed some tissues from the Kleenex box on bedside as Bruce shook and trembled.

Bruce thought he was going insane. He'd been hard the whole time and he wished it'd just go away. He didn't know if he was in pain, or in pleasure, but suddenly, "Jay, I'm going to…I'm going to…" he grips onto Jason tightly in a breathless, silent scream.

Jason quietly wiped away the mess, and throws it across the room to a trash bin, and mentally celebrated the three point shot. Bruce was leaning onto him now, having barely enough strength to keep himself straight.

A moment later, Bruce knew he had to push with the new contraction and was gripping on Jason's upper arms, holding his breath and was already bearing down. Leslie was behind him the whole time. "Breathe, Bruce," she said after about ten seconds.

Bruce let out a breath, and then was taking in huge gulps of air. Jason was whispering encouragements in his ear, not that he really needed any of it since he was obviously not a man who would give up. "Just a little bit more," Jason whispered, letting Bruce cling to him and try to break his arms.

"I'm here!" Dick barged in, wearing a tank top and some sweats that look suspiciously like Jason's, but Jason didn't care. "Alfred took Tim out for a walk; I'm here," he announced breathlessly.

"Get some more towels," Leslie told him as she assisted the black mass emerging from Bruce's slit.

"Get me one of the face towels, Dick!" Jason yelled after him.

Dick dashed to the bathroom, taking as many towels as his arms could carry, and set the towels down at the foot of the bed. He threw the face towel to his brother, who rolled it up so Bruce could have something to bit on.

Bruce gladly took the rolled up cloth into his mouth and bit down hard as he pushed through the contraction and the waves of pain.

"Oh my god," Dick gasped, taking a few steps back. He could see the baby crowning, and Dick couldn't help but frown in worry when it cruelly slid back farther in than it slid out as Bruce took a break.

Bruce stopped when the contraction faded, he let go of the towel, trying to get as much air as he can as possible into his lungs. Jason put the towel back in his mouth again just when another contraction, not even moments from the previous one, pierced through him. He had to get it out. He tried not to mind the pain and just concentrate on getting it out but everything hurt.

"OH GOD THE HEAD'S OUT." Dick exclaimed, and everything in Bruce's lower regions looked tight and stretched to the limit and he felt like throwing up, and felt like thanking heaven he wasn't going to go through that, and also cursing everything because Tim was going to.

"Dick, shut up!" Jason hissed as he adjusted Bruce's weight on him, and wiped his forehead with a cool cloth to prevent the sweat from reaching Bruce's eyes.

"It is?" Bruce asked, and reached down between his legs, his hands guided by Leslie, then felt something hard and round bulging out of him. "Oh God," he choked out.

"Breathe, Bruce," instructed Leslie, taking more towels from the pile beside her to catch the spilling fluids. "Just a few more pushes,"

"Look at me," Jason lifts Bruce's face to make eye contact with him. "Look at me," he said again, "I know you're not giving up. I know that you can do this," he just wanted Bruce to have an alpha's reassurance, touch and love, even if it's only his son's. "A little more, okay? A little more and you'll have your baby,"

Bruce looked into Jason's eyes. His son. His amazing, wonderful son, who was trying his best to be his alpha. He nodded, taking in the words of encouragement. He spread his knees a little wider, and began pushing again.

It was like he was being torn apart as the mass stretched him more than he could take, then suddenly, the pressure was gone and the rest of the baby slid out of him easily.

"There we go!" said Leslie happily as she caught the baby. She untangled the cord, and cleared the child's nose and mouth. It gave a cough, a hiccup, then a loud, shrieking cry. "Meet your son, Bruce,"

That was the most beautiful thing Bruce had ever heard in his entire life. He didn't know whether to cry or laugh as Jason gently rolled him over to rest between his legs and lean against his chest. He watched Dick and Leslie wipe away the blood and gunk off him and dry him off. The baby was placed in Bruce's shaking arms, calming down as he felt his contact his bearer's skin.

Dick, with all smiles and tears, handed Leslie the scissors.

"Will you do the honours, Alpha Todd?" Leslie offered the scissors to Jason, who with the biggest smile and the happiest heart, gladly cut the cord.

"Look at you," cried Bruce, "You must be tired, huh?" he cooed, taking one of the child's hands and pressing his lips to the tiny appendage. The child opened his eyes, and Bruce had to choke back a sob.

They were Clark's eyes.

"Looks a lot like him," said Jason.

"Yeah," Bruce agreed, unable to look away from his son.

When everything had been cleaned including Bruce, the baby wrapped in a warm blanket, and the afterbirth delivered, Leslie said her goodbyes, and Dick joined Jason and Bruce on the bed. A few minutes later, Alfred and Tim joined them in the room.

"Bruce!" said Tim worriedly.

"Shh," Bruce told him quietly. "Come see, Tim,"

Tim shyly went up to the bed, and peered at his sleeping baby brother. "He's so small," he whispered in awe. "What will you call him?" he looked up at Bruce.

Dick looked at Bruce, and Jason, still behind Bruce holding him, and Alfred, standing by Tim, his heart swelling with pride, waited for the answer.

Bruce smiled at the baby. "Conner," he finally said. "Conner Joseph Kent."

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	3. Chapter 3

**Title**: Marked and Unclaimed  
**Fandoms**: Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Superman Returns (2006), Superman - All Media Types, Batman - All Media Types  
**Relationship**: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne  
**Characters**: Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Alfred Pennyworth  
**Additional Tags**: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Mpreg

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Notes: I'M ON A ROLL BECAUSE WHEN THERE'S A DEADLINE IN SCHOOL THAT'S WHEN ALL THE IDEAS COME OUT. I have a feeling this is OOC for Bruce though, but that's an omega for you.

Unbeta'd.

* * *

_Dear Jason,_

Jason snapped awake as his phone vibrated under his pillow. He glanced at it to check the time and saw that it was a little over two in the morning, and that it was time to feed the baby. He looked over at Bruce who was fast asleep on his bed next to his. He yawned and got up to feed his baby brother. He groggily made his way to the crib, to peek at the tiny human being. "Hey there, sport," he yawned, grabbing one of the bottles from the warmer.

He was never going to understand how Bruce could go through pumping this much milk out of his chest. It looked painful and…he sighed, maybe a little breast pump was nothing compared to an eight hour labour and pushing a fully formed human being out of a pencil sized hole. He shivered.

_I know I'll never be able to say this out loud, so I'll write to you instead, because I need you to know. I want you to know._

"We gotta let your mommy get some sleep," he gently took the baby out of the crib. Mindful of Conner's head, he made himself comfortable in the rocking chair near the window. "He hasn't had much since you started growing like nuts and dancing on his bladder. Did you like dancing on his bladder?"

"Mmm, breast milk," Conner gladly took the bottle's nipple into his mouth, and started sucking hungrily. "Yeah, yeah, enjoy this while you can cuz," he yawned. "Baby food sucks,"

_Thank you. I know I'm not your favourite person, and what you're doing for me is driven only by instinct, something you can't ignore. But thank you anyway._

"You did, didn't you?" said Jason with a chuckle, "You're guilty as charged, big boy."

Conner just stared up at him and sucked on his bottle. Yep, he was probably going to be stuck in whichever house Bruce decided to stay in until the mark wore off. Or probably until he found himself a mate, because as an alpha, Jason was never going to be able to leave Bruce and the baby uncared for and unprotected. Even if he did, it was going to drive him insane and back to them anyway.

"I can't promise that I won't beat your father's ass," Jason yawned again. Talking to the baby helped him stay awake. "I'm going to give him a bullet to somewhere less fatal. Because he totally deserves it,"

_You've made everything so much easier. Not just because you help around, not because as an alpha, you give me the reassurance that my child is safe and cared for. But just because you are here, and because you came back to us._

"And you, you handsome little devil you," continued Jason, "I am going to make sure you know your Kryptonite, your gymnastics, a little gunfire here and there, some knives, and most of all, you see that person over there?" he pointed to the sleeping form on the king size bed. "You better love him. Cuz he didn't just cook you and popped you out. He loves you, even before he met you. And I'm proud of him."

_I've learned long ago that security is temporary. My parents were taken way before their time, and Clark's almost deaths. And yours as well. But know that I am happy that you are here, though I do not deserve it. It was foolish of me to think it was alright, to seek security from an alpha I trusted. But Clark has left, and there is nothing I can do about it._

"Alright," Jason set the bottle aside. It was almost empty, and Conner was ready to go back to sleep. "Time for you to get more sleep. Though I have no idea why you're always asleep. Haven't you been sleeping the whole time inside mommy?" he set him gently down in the crib. "On second thought, just sleep. I doubt you or anybody in this house will be getting any in a few months,"

_Ignoring my physiology wasn't really the smartest idea. I didn't want to accept this as it is. I hated being a slave to my body and my emotions. And I still do. The control I used to have around my children is now something I cannot afford. This child deserves everything. _

Jason checked in on Bruce, who was still asleep, looking as peaceful as he'd ever seen him. It made Jason happy. Happier than getting the satisfaction of beating someone up who'd snatched a bag from an unsuspecting lady walking down the street to get to her car. Who knew?

Now that everybody was full of milk and was getting rest, Jason dove back under his covers and went back to sleep.

_All of you deserve everything. I'm sorry if I haven't been the best parent to all of you, but know that I love you all equally, as if you were my own flesh and blood. And I don't regret any one of you. I'm proud of the young men you all have become. I'm proud to call you all my boys. _

Tomorrow, Jason decided as he drifted off to sleep, he was going to have a can of Monster with his pancakes, play with Tim, and look after Conner some more, make sure Bruce didn't get sick or didn't get anything infected.

He woke up at noon. Bruce didn't have the heart to wake him up knowing he was the one who tended to Conner the night before. Since they all lived on the ground floor, it was okay for Bruce to be walking around, but with assistance.

He joined them for lunch in the garden. There were some fried chicken and fries (chips, Alfred insisted), some pasta and sandwiches. Dick had a can of monster while reading the day's paper, since he too had just woken up. He was sharply dressed for a day at Wayne Enterprises. Tim was enjoying his chicken and fries, talking to Conner who was in a bassinet beside him. Tim had affectionately nicknamed him 'Kon' with a 'K' like Kal for Clark, because Conner was way too long for him, and it didn't sound like a cute name for a baby.

Bruce looked well rested, glad that Conner had been changed and fed before everybody showed up for lunch. Alfred turned from sarcastic butler into doting grandfather. Pretty much everybody just went loco for the baby.

After lunch, with a long shower in mind, Jason went back to Bruce's room to grab his towel from his bed. There was an envelope on his bedside drawer. He hung his towel around his neck, and opened the letter to read the note.

_All my love,  
Bruce_

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	4. Chapter 4

If there was anything other than the insatiable need to be fucked and gotten pregnant that Bruce hated most about the full blown heats he'd already had, it was that he remembered absolutely nothing from the seven days of absentmindedly impaling himself on his favourite toy when because he didn't like heat mates, and he was already ill a d delirious enough from the suppressants.

He remembered nothing of the seven days Clark spent with him. He didn't know if Clark had done anything by the book about taking care of an omega in heat. He didn't know if Clark had any difficulty in dealing with his needs because of his alien physiology—not that he was going to be able to do anything about it, but he could apologize. He couldn't remember what Clark had said. He might have said something about leaving. Clark wasn't that type of person to just up and leave. Maybe if he meditated, which he hadn't done in a while, would help. If his mind couldn't remember it, maybe his senses would.

He hadn't been able to step out of the manor, or his little French vacation house since his heat. It took a while, maybe a few days, before he had completely recovered from the exhaustion his heat brought on. In those few days, he had realized he'd been marked, unclaimed, was probably already quickening, and that Clark had already left. It didn't make it any less problematic when he left a note saying where he'd gone, that he'd be back as soon as possible, and that the Watchtower was under J'onn and Mr Terrific's capable hands.

So for most of his gestation, he was in the study, home schooling Tim, which was the most logical idea. Tim didn't like being driven for miles to get to the nearest school, so after a week of waking up at the ass crack of dawn, Bruce agreed to home school him. When he wasn't teaching Tim, he read almost anything under the sun, but he poured his heart out most on reading the things he needed to know for the baby.

Right now, he was in the study, in the rocking chair Jason had gotten him, feeding Conner under the morning rays of sunshine that poured through the window nearby. Tim was on the floor, reading a book, glancing at him from time to time.

"They told me to tell you not to exert yourself," Dick had told him the night before. He had brought a single picture up to the tower to show the senior members. In the photo Conner was about a week old, and Bruce, under Leslie's insistence, was on IV when he showed signs of exhaustion. He was pale and there were dark circles under his eyes. "I told them it was the mark,"

Now, Conner was three weeks old, and Bruce looked significantly better, but he still looked a little sleep deprived and pallid. Leslie told them it was going to take a while for the mark to wear off, so Bruce was going to be weak, physically and emotionally, until the mark was gone, and until he could manage, however small a connection was created, the unfinished bond. Everything was just too raw and painful at the moment, especially now that Bruce had just a baby.

And he was never as relieved and happy to have his family around him. He had never felt as loved and safe to feel his bond with them as strong and powerful as they did now.

Tim watched Bruce carefully, every time he handled the baby. He had cried out of distress that Bruce was in so much pain when he had the baby. Everything Bruce did fascinated and terrified him. He set his book down and approached Bruce, who has buttoning his shirt back up.

"Is he going back to sleep again?" Tim asked, watching Bruce wipe Conner's mouth with a soft, small towel.

"Yep," said Bruce, shifting the small child a little in his arms.

"I miss your belly," said Tim, looking at Bruce's slightly swollen stomach. "I liked it when it was big, and the way it moved when you laughed,"

Bruce chuckled. "Do you like my big belly better than having the baby here?"

Tim looked up at him. "No!" he answered immediately. "I like Kon here better," he smiled at Bruce.

"Yeah, I think I like him better outside than inside," Bruce watched Tim take Conner's tiny hand.

"Alright, ladies," Jason came in with some tea and crumpets. "Alfred says it's time to eat something. Tea and cookies,"

"Crumpets," said Bruce and Tim at the same time.

"Whatever," Jason set the tray down on the coffee table. "This one's for you, Timmy," he said, making him sit on the sofa, as he handed him a mug of warm tea. "Yours has milk and sugar, and you," he turned to Bruce, "You get orange juice and a French salad. I can't pronounce this,"

"It's called Niçoise," said Tim, putting a crumpet in his mouth.

Jason squinted his eyes at his little brother. "You get a well-deserved noogie later, you little know it all,"

"If you can catch me," Tim challenged with a smile.

Bruce gave a small laugh. "He _is_ pretty fast, you know,"

"Challenge accepted, baby bird," said Jason, smirking at the boy. He turned back to Bruce to take the child so he could eat in peace. "C'mere, big man, you gotta let your milk tank eat,"

"Eeewww," said Tim with a full mouth. "Don't call him 'milk tank,' Miltank is a Pokemon! He lets other Pokemon and humans drink milk from her udders!"

"Oh my god," frowned Jason. "I did not need to know that. You get another noogie!"

"I can get you Pokemon X and Y for your birthday?" Tim gave him wide smile. "With a 3DS?"

"I'd rather you not," Jason chuckled. He swayed slightly, putting Conner to sleep as he watched Bruce eat. "I'll never be able to survive with the food Alfred's making you eat. It's all so healthy,"

"It's what I need to recover," said Bruce plainly. "And what I eat, is what he eats, probably for little while longer," he took a swig of the freshly squeezed orange juice. "Do you mind looking after him a few hours after noon?" Bruce asked, "I might try a little meditating,"

"Sure," Jason nodded. "No problem," when he was sure that Conner had fallen asleep already, he set him down in the basinet near Bruce.

Lunch was again eaten in the study and Jason decided to join them. Bruce excused himself after finishing the meal Alfred had prepared him, and went to meditate outside on the porch in the back, where there was a little sun and a cool breeze blowing every now and then.

He laid out a mat and chose the half lotus position. He took a deep breath, and cleared his mind.

* * *

"How long has he been like that?" Jason asked Tim. He had just finished feeding Conner again and the baby was in full and happy in his basinet.

"About two hours now," said Tim with a frown. "He hasn't moved an inch. Actually, he hasn't moved at all," he sighed. "Maybe he thought meditating would help block the bond or something?"

"I dunno, and I think this meditating thing is a bad, bad idea,"

Jason decided to stay in the living room so they could see Bruce on the porch. He didn't like the idea of Bruce meditating.

* * *

There weren't any full memories, just flashes of his senses. He could hear Clark's voice, sometimes his own; he felt touches and there were some scents, and few second visions, all happened throughout his heat. But it was better than nothing. At least he could get something from the pieces of what were supposed to be memories.

* * *

_"It's my first time spending my heat with a mate," _

_"What?" _

_"Everything you read on the paper about me is a lie. And you?"_

_"It's my first time, too, but I'm not sure if marking applies to me. I am alien after all," _

* * *

_There was the smell of his and Clark's combined musk in the room. He felt touches, heavy touches that burned and cooled him down at the same time wanted more of it._

* * *

_The room was dark, and the doors to the terrace were open. The moon was full, and Clark was once again rutting against him, his arms around Clark's broad shoulders. He could hear their hips canting against each other. _

_"Bruce…"_

* * *

_ "More, Clark, please," _

_"I can't, Bruce, your fever won't break and you're dehydrated—I can't," Clark sounded scared and worried. "You need to—just stay here. Alfred!" the bed creaked and there was the sound of fading footsteps._

_"**Please**…"_

* * *

_"No, don't," _

_There was need. _

_"I want it," _

_The fire. There was fire. Fire inside him and burning his skin._

_"I can't—Bruce you know that—"_

_He was desperate._

_"I want it!" _

_He tried to take it. _

_"Bruce, don't!"_

_He took it._

* * *

_It didn't feel as hot anymore, and the need was gone. The terrace doors were still open, and a cool breeze flowed into the room, brushing over his warm skin._

* * *

_There was a hand brushing through his hair over and over again. _

_"I just need to see it for myself," _

_"Why?" Bruce looked up at Clark. His head was on Clark's lap. _

_"I dunno," _

_"I hope you find what you're looking for. Don't take too long," _

_"I hope so," Clark smiled at him._

* * *

And then it was like someone kicked him in the chest, and he was thrust out of the visions trying to catch his breath.

"BRUCE!" Jason ran out to him, catching him before Bruce hit his head on the floor. "Tim! Set his legs straight! Don't panic on me, okay?" he told Tim, who could do nothing but nod.

Bruce was limp, and Jason was carrying his dead weight as Tim untangled Bruce's legs from the half lotus position. He cradled Bruce's upper body, and sent Tim back inside for Alfred and for some water.

"Goddamnit, I knew this was a bad idea!"

He let Clark leave. "I made him," he said, staring blankly up at Jason.

"What?" Jason looked lost, having absolutely no idea what Bruce was talking about. "Who?"

Bruce now couldn't fathom how much he hated his body even more now. Clark didn't know he wasn't fully out his heat yet. He didn't let Clark mark him. He made him. He was marked. And Clark couldn't tell he'd marked him because he was different.

He hated it.

He _loathed_ the body he was born with.

"Clark," he said, "I _made_ him mark me,"


	5. Chapter 5

Bruce didn't talk about what he said, nor did he add anything to it, in the days that followed, and the days after that. Jason told Dick, Alfred and Tim what Bruce had said, and what Jason thought Bruce had done, but nobody dared to ask Bruce about it. Alfred, though worried, did not say anything; Dick didn't tell the League, because it was not his to tell; Jason continued to be a responsible alpha, and Tim did his homework and tried to be a good boy.

Dick made sure to bring a picture of both Bruce and Conner up to the Tower every week, because everybody wanted to see how Bruce was faring, and to see big and cute the baby was getting. Wally mentioned the baby was starting to look more like a mini-Clark; everybody agreed, and that was the last time Clark was mentioned. Ma and Pa Kent got pictures of everything (_everything_), and Tim would gave them everything he took with this camera phone. Bruce had to make sure everything was encrypted, though. The senior members of the League got some, too, physical copies from Dick every once in a while. Bruce wouldn't admit it, even if everybody in the house already knew about it, but he took a photo of Conner every day since birth.

Bruce found himself relying on instinct and not the books he had learned by heart. Conner was three months old now and was getting so big, Bruce couldn't imagine how he'd managed to create something like him. He loved to laugh and be cuddled; he giggled when Jason blew raspberries on his little tummy, when Dick peppered his tiny face with kisses, or when Tim made funny faces.

Right now, the Tower was bustling with activity while the Earth was relatively quiet. In the League conference room, the senior members together with Dick, were at the table, in the middle of a video call with Bruce.

"Oh, Hera, bless this child," said a completely smitten Diana, smiling as she watched Bruce distract Conner for a while.

Everybody was gushing over Conner, telling Bruce how he'd sneeze their roof off, or throw his crib out the window in the middle of a tantrum, but that ceased immediately when Conner fussed when he felt Bruce's distress about the direction the conversation was going.

He didn't even mention how very Kryptonian the nickname Tim had given Conner was; how amazing it sounded with attached to the name of Clark's House. How he sometimes woke up in the middle of the night feeling like he had someone on the other side of the bed, a faint feeling his senses remembered from his heat, only to be disappointed that there was no one there, and that there was only another bed next to his, his alpha son looking after him and Conner.

"Yes," said Bruce, trying to calm Conner down. "It is rather unfortunate for Clark to miss his child's first years of childhood, but I'm sure when the time comes that the mark has worn off, he'll have the best set of godmothers and godfathers in the sector."

"Damn right he will," John agreed.

"And the best teachers!" said Wally, "Don't worry, Bruce. I'll teach that kid how to eat."

"No offense, Wally," Bruce shifted Conner's weight in his arms. "But if there's anyone who's going to teach this child what and how to eat, it's Alfred,"

The team snickered. Wally pouted.

"I need to go," Bruce shifted Conner again so he wouldn't suck on his breast through his shirt. "It's time to feed," he carefully let Conner shit on his lap so everybody could say their goodbyes. Bruce smiled a little as his teammates cooed at his baby. He waved a little, and shut off the computer.

"So," said Jason as he entered the room. "This is the last bottle," he handed it to Bruce. "Or do you want me to?"

"No, thank you, Jason, that's alright," Bruce shook his head. "I'm a little engorged and aching so I think it's best to let him drain one side then I'm pump the other. It's miserable, really," he unbuttoned his shirt and let the child latch on.

Bruce had taken a liking to wearing clothes like Clark's plaids. He found it easy to undo and do them whenever Conner needed feeding, and they were pretty comfortable. Jason found it offensive whenever Bruce wore the only plaid shirt Bruce had that was Clark's, but he let it go and tried to be considerate. However, since Jason was the alpha looking after him, Bruce set aside Clark's shirt and bought himself a similar set.

"Man," Jason sat down on the sofa near the chair Bruce was comfortably feeding his little brother. "If protein shakes had whatever's in breast milk, Dwayne Johnson would be the norm,"

Bruce chuckled. "You can have that last bottle if you want,"

"Ugh, no," he set it down on the coffee table in front of him. "Absolutely not. Even if Dick and Tim dared me, and the price was a joyride in the Batmobile. No, sir,"

Both men looked at each other and laughed their hearts out. And then there was silence.

For Jason, this was one of those times where only Bruce and Conner existed. There was nobody else in the universe, just a new omega mother and his baby. And Jason _loved_ seeing Bruce look and marvel at Conner like he was most priceless piece of shiny rock ever unearthed, and treat him like he was the world to him. The look on Bruce's face when he saw Conner for the first time and fell in love with him in a heartbeat, the way he kissed Conner's tiny hand wrapped around one of his fingers, the way he pressed his nose to his hair, the way he cradled him, and the way he smiled with him was amazing. There was no pain there, only the love and pain everybody knew Bruce so deserved. So he waited until Bruce acknowledged his presence, rather than bursting the bubble of security between the two.

"Have you eaten lunch yet?" Bruce asked, not bothering to look up. "It's almost noon,"

"No," Jason shook his head. "We were hoping you'd join us. Feeding him doesn't usually take long so maybe when he's put to sleep we can borrow you for a while,"

"Mmm," was Bruce's only answer.

And there were times that Bruce needed someone to agree with him that Conner was the most perfect thing anyone had ever seen. Jason went over to Bruce's side to peek at his baby brother. Today, the second oldest went with, "Handsome devil,"

"No, he's an angel," said Bruce, "Because the first three were downright devils,"

"You didn't." Jason mock frowned at him.

"Oh, I just did, Jason Peter," Bruce smirked up at him. "Who said you three were angels? As I recall you're the most devilish of all,"

"You're lucky I love you," Jason smirked back.

"I am, aren't I?" said Bruce, then turned back to Conner. "Aren't we?" and Conner, the little sweetheart that he was, was already about to fall asleep but still feeding. "See, I told you he's an angel,"

"So," said Jason after a minute, "How'd your video conference go?"

Bruce took a deep breath. "Everybody's smitten and cooing; Wally mentioned he looked like Clark, which I minded but I didn't say anything about it. A lot of begging to come see us which is dangerous, but they begged nonetheless,"

"And the baptism?"

"The Justice League is at this child's disposal," Bruce chuckled. "And that it might take me a while if I want to be back up there serving monitor duty at least,"

"What? No! Hell no!" Jason whispered angrily, as he felt the anger boil up inside him at the thought that the League wanted Bruce up and running again. "You are so not going back up anywhere! I don't even want you going anywhere near a computer or an earpiece to help Dick on a case, much less let you watch a hundred and fifty shit of screens for six hours on a satellite orbiting the planet!"

"Calm down," said Bruce softly with a frown. "As much as I want to be back patrolling and barking orders up on the Watchtower, the need to stay here and raise my child is stronger. Nobody in the League is asking me to return, and Dick is doing a fine job."

"I still say no," Jason said stubbornly. "I won't let you. I won't let them." He wasn't going to let Clark anywhere near Bruce or Conner either.

Bruce sighed. "I won't, okay?" he buttoned his shirt back up. Jason was probably going to carry this anger for a long time.

"Is everything alright?" Tim stood at the door. "Alfred says lunch is ready, and I brought out the basinet for Kon,"

"We'll be right there, Tim; close the door," said Jason. Tim nodded and did as he was told. He let out a heavy breath. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely, "I got angry,"

"It's okay. I understand," Bruce stood up and gently placed Conner in Jason's arms.

Jason looked at his baby brother's chubby, sleeping face, and felt the anger wash away. "Goddamnit, Bruce. You always use him against us,"

Bruce squeezed Jason's shoulder. "He has that effect on me, too," he smiled a little. "I believe it's time for lunch,"

With a nod, Jason led the way to the dining room.

"You don't mind Martha and Jonathan over for a while, do you?" said Bruce after a moment.

"Oh, thank God. I thought that'd never cross your mind."

* * *

This is probably the last chapter where Kon is an infant. Next chapter would probably be the disappearance of the Mark. Review please.


	6. Chapter 6

I know I said the last chapter will feature baby Kon, but I realized the league hadn't had their time with him yet, so this was it. At least they tried to hold him, I guess. I'm not sure what's next, but I'm leaning towards Bruce's return to Gotham. And probably Clark's arrival. Which I have no idea how to write yet.

Cheers, and happy new year!

* * *

Seven month old Conner looked up at the person who was carrying him. He stared and stared at the ginger haired man who was making scary (they were supposed to be funny) face at him. No. No he didn't like this person at all. So he cried, and he screamed his lungs out.

There was a collective "Aawww," from the group of men and women in Bruce's dining room. Bruce approached Wally and gently plucked the child from his arms. "Man," Wally frowned as he slumped in his chair. "I was looking forward to holding him all day,"

Conner immediately calmed down when he saw his bearer. "Shush now, child," Bruce whispered, pressing his lips to the child's temple.

Diana only smiled. "It seems like a child has Justice League wrapped around his tiny finger,"

John constructed a little rattle from his ring and made it float over to Conner. "Here you go, kid." He chuckled, and watched Conner shake the construct around.

"He has an extraordinary group of young men and women at his disposal," said Ma Kent as she and Dick stepped into the dining room with a tray of cool lemonade for everyone.

Ma and Pa Kent had been staying with them for a while now. Bruce didn't want to keep their grandson away from them. Bruce still didn't want Kara knowing, even if she had the right. She was a teenager, and was part of the roster on probation. He didn't want Emil Hamilton from STAR Labs getting in her head, and telling Amanda Waller or Luthor. He didn't want to risk that. He was going to take all the chances to keep his family safe.

Shayera stood up and took the tray from Ma, and set it down on the table. John distributed the glasses with floating green coasters. "Thank you, dear," said Ma.

"I'll help you with bringing out the food," John stood up, but was patted back down by Dick.

"I don't think that's safe, even if you're heavily armed," said Dick, squeezing his shoulders. "You're an Alpha, he's an Alpha, and he's really, really, _really_ angry right now,"

"Right, right," John cleared his throat and took a swig of the lemonade.

Ma and Dick went back in the kitchen, and Tim and Pa came out with the plates and napkins, to which Diana and Wally helped with, and set up the table.

They had just gotten from Conner's baptism. Even if the mark had already faded, Bruce still wasn't ready to leave France, so the baptism was done very privately in a nearby chapel. Leslie couldn't make it, but she was present through the efforts of Tim's tablet.

Conner was wearing a tiny white tux, so cute even Bruce couldn't resist cooing. And Jason was still pretty protective, but he was doing really well, and he hadn't attacked anyone or reached for his guns yet, so they were okay. He was in the kitchen helping Alfred because apparently cooking calmed him down.

"Kon!" said Tim, holding out his arms, as if asking permission from Bruce to hold the baby. He sat down beside Bruce, and let Bruce carefully place Conner in his arms. "Hi, Kon," Tim giggled when Conner gave him a gummy smile.

"May I _please_ get a turn holding him again?" said Shayera. "I mean I swear I'll try not to make him cry. I'll even _fly_ for him, just let me hold him again, _please_. Look at him he's like a mini you and he's so adorably handsome—"

Tim stood up, went over to the Hawkwoman and let her hold Conner. He went back to his seat beside Bruce, and waited for the conversation to continue. Conner was silent, then he dropped the green rattle construct and reached for Shayera's wings.

John frowned. "Guess he didn't like my constructs, then,"

"How are you, J'onn?" said Diana as she turned to the Martian, who was in his human form. "It's been a while since you've had some time off,"

J'onn tried out the lemonade. It was delightfully sour and sweet at the same time. "I am well, Diana," answered J'onn. "It is wonderful to finally see Bruce again, and to see him and his children, especially the infant, healthy and well," he turned to Bruce, "And thank you again, Bruce, for giving me, for giving us, the honor of being your son's godparents. It is a privilege to be trusted by you," Wally had been the one to explain to him what godparents did and the responsibility given to them. J'onn looked unfazed by it all, but Wally was bouncing off the walls exited.

Bruce nodded. "It is also reassuring to know that I have someone to trust. I may be back in shape, but I am not yet physically or otherwise fully capable of defending myself and my son," he took a gulp of the juice.

"Was it hard?" asked Wally, "Having him, I mean,"

"Yes, very," Bruce answered. "I believe I had all of the symptoms all throughout. The nausea didn't stop until nearly the end of the third trimester, and instances of high blood pressure and insomnia were sporadic. No diabetes, thank goodness. And there was tenderness, a lot of swelling and some pigmentation,"

Wally shivered. "Sounds scary."

"Not as scary as when Kon was born!" said Tim. "It was his birthday and all…"

Bruce put a gentle hand to Tim's back. "Go help bring the food out," he whispered, and Tim hopped off the chair and ran back into the kitchen. "What he meant to say was, eight hours of pain isn't exactly anybody's cup of tea,"

"Dick didn't know until the last minute that you were in labor," said Diana with a chuckle. "He flew the Javelin like how Wally would run if he were late on a date with Linda,"

Wally flushed red.

"I thought you were gonna call me when he started labor, not exactly when he was about to literally get him out!" said Dick as he set down the tray of spoons, forks and knives. Again, John distributed the utensils with some little flying green dots. "I need to get me one of those. It's going to make chores so _much easier. _Like cleaning the Batmobile after Clayface douses it with mud. Or my laundry!"

John chuckled.

"Ow!" exclaimed Shayera as she stepped away from the table to carefully flap one of her wings, "He pulled out one of my feathers!" Conner giggled and happily waved the large feather around. "Well if you put it that way. You're welcome," she snuggled him.

"That is _so_ unfair!" complained Wally. "Why does he like you?!"

"Because obviously he likes birds," said Shayera, peppering the giggling child's cheeks with kisses. "Having been taken care of Robins ever since he's been put snugly inside his mom,"

"Alright, ladies!" said Pa as he, Dick and Tim stepped out with the food with Alfred and Ma behind them. "Bruce wanted a Thanksgiving (1) dinner with you so that's what we're having,"

The food was laid out, and dinner started. Bruce was happily listening to the conversation going on around him, and was halfway through his food when Conner started crying in his basinet beside Tim. He was about to stand up, but Alfred stepped in and took him.

"It's alright, sir," said Alfred with a smile, then he brought Conner into the kitchen where the crying ceased.

"Does he still feed from you?" asked Diana.

"Yes, but I have some bottles prepared for when I'm too out of it at night to feed, so Jason does it," answered Bruce. "The boys take turns feeding him. It's quite endearing,"

Tim's eyes widened as he smiled from ear to ear at Bruce. Bruce chuckled and wiped a smear of gravy from Tim's chin.

"I'll have to start weaning him off to just the bottle or solid food because he's getting teeth and that doesn't really feel comfortable, especially when he's cranky,"

The members of the league winced. "Other than the crying," said Ma, "Conner is a complete sweetheart. Especially when he's trying to say something,"

Then Conner started crying again. Bruce excused himself, took Conner from the kitchen and retreated to his study. Conner must not have liked being rudely taken from his basinet.

After about a moment of silence, John spoke. "He's not coming back, is he?"

"No," Pa shook his head. "He tries to keep himself busy when Conner's asleep. Reading, getting back in shape or anything that wouldn't pull a muscle or remind him of certain people,"

Quietly, everyone had gone back to finishing the last bits of food on their plate, and helped clean up. Alfred packed them some food for them to take home.

When Bruce took his crying baby brother off his arms, Jason left the kitchen and had a well-deserved cigarette in the backyard, something he hadn't had since he'd come home. It was like quitting, since he had to give it up for everybody else's health. He just wanted one now to get his mind of the people in the house. He'd probably not have another one for a few more years, and probably really quit altogether.

He saw the figures in the house leave the dining room, and go into some other room. Probably to Bruce's study to say goodbye.

Bruce liked to sing softly to Conner when he was trying to get him to sleep. Mostly oldies, some Carpenters and Beatles. Today he sung Conner something else. It was a bit sad. It was what he felt at the moment. He was both happy and sad. Happy that he was surrounded with family and friends, and sad that they weren't complete.

_One by one their seeds were emptied._ _And one by one, they went away. (2)_

Wally was the one who opened the door to Bruce's study. Bruce was by the window, back to the door, sitting in a rocking chair bathed by the moonlight. "I think I've heard that song before," he whispered to the others as they made their way into the room. "Where have I heard this before?"

_Now the family is parted, will it be complete one day?_

"That sounds really sad," whispered Shayera with a frown.

John closed the door and joined the others near the center of the room. "I think we should go," he said, "Us being here is too much for them."

_Will the circle be unbroken? By and by, by and by. _

Bruce moved, buttoned up his shirt and shifted Conner's weight in his arms. He hadn't fallen asleep yet, but he was full and was about to. He babbled and sleepily held onto one of Bruce's fingers.

_Is a better home awaiting in the sky, in the sky? _

Bruce heard them leave and the door click, and Conner fell asleep.

* * *

(1) According to S02E08 of Young Justice, "Satisfaction," Conner was born on the 21st of March, so I'm using that.  
(2) This song is called "Will The Circle Be Unbroken," and I used the Bioshock Infinite version. It was performed by Courtnee Draper (vocals) and Troy Baker (guitar), the voice actors of the main characters. Please take a moment to listen to the whole song; it's beautiful. I'm also not sure why I used that part of the song, probably because Bruce just wants Clark back and for his family to be whole.


	7. Chapter 7

Conner was two when Bruce came back to Gotham. The League had suggested he beam home, instead of flying. Flying was too risky, and Gotham's journalists would hear about one of his jets as soon as it taxied down the runway. And just to be safe, Bruce had Conner use his surname instead of Clark's. There was only one Kent in the world that Bruce Wayne was publicly associated with. He didn't want Clark's name to be dragged into this.

A little while after Clark left, Bruce had received an email from Perry White, that _The Planet_ had just lost one of its best writers, Clark Kent. He quit, Perry had said, because he wanted to go hiking on some holy mountains and see some llamas to find himself. Bruce had laughed bitterly. The 'finding himself' part was mostly true, and hiking on the mountains of Nepal or Japan and seeing llamas were complete bullshit. Surely Clark could have come up with a better lie than that.

And no story, was released to the public. He was gone a few years (again), he came back with a child and that was it. He had always been a private person, and Brucie was all for show, so he'd rather let let them make up whatever bullshit rumour they want than give them a story that was half true. Because no matter how and what angle he looked at it, it was the truth. At least a part of it was.

Now, had just turned four, and had celebrated his birthday with his godfathers and godmothers in the manor. Apparently, four year old Conner was a favourite of the paparazzi. And was somehow everything he wore was the height of baby fashion. Including some blue fuzzy blue years Dick thought was cute. Suddenly every toddler in the city was wearing some kind of blue fuzzy ears.

He went out every once in a while, surrounded by his sons (1). No parties were held at the manor, or anywhere near Mountain Drive. Dick and Tim, the little genius that he was, ran Wayne Enterprises. Bruce was there too, on times that he was needed. Especially in board meetings. But usually Tim handled those. They also handled the nightlife well. He was allowed to help on cases now. Most of them were pretty easy (he had no idea why Gotham was being suspiciously kind the last few years—maybe because most of the guys he caught were still in Arkham). The most recent one was Professor Pyg, and some shit about killing fashion designers (2).

Jason stayed home with him. While Bruce taught Conner, Jason decided to take some online courses on some random undergraduate degree. Bruce caught him doing some papers, and from the looks of it, it had something to do with business. Jason wouldn't tell him and he wasn't going to push the boy.

Huh. Boys. His sons, except maybe for Conner obviously, were already young men. Young men who had the thinking capacity of a sixteen year old.

Alfred was still preparing dinner in the kitchen, and Conner had complained about fifteen minutes ago that he was already hungry. So Bruce fixed up some of the leftovers from yesterday (some chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy) and heated them up in the microwave.

"Alright, Kon, time for dinner," Bruce entered the playroom, where all his boys were present and wrestling around with each other. He set down the tray, closed the door, and stood there with his arms crossed, waiting for them to acknowledge his presence.

They were in a tangled heap of limbs, sweat and hair on the puzzle mat on the floor surrounded with toys, with Conner sitting on top like cherry on a scoop of ice cream.

"Apparently I don't have three adult sons but four toddlers," he turned to his left and saw two dents on the drywall. Alfred was not going to like that at all. "Mind explaining that?"

"Man," said Dick breathlessly. "Bruce, that kid is going to be so good. He threw me and Jason at that wall!"

Bruce looked at Conner, and the child beamed at him. He had no idea how he missed that two big crashing sounds earlier. It _was_ a big house.

"It was awesome, and a good kind of pain," said Jason as he untangled his limbs from his brothers. "That is going to be sore for a while," he heaved as he got up.

"You three wash up, and help Alfred with dinner," said Bruce. "Conner Joseph, get off Richard and we'll get you cleaned up. Timothy Jackson, Jason Peter, Richard John,"

"Oh no," said Tim, "Full names," he frowned. "Not full names,"

"This is entirely your fault, Richard," said Jason as he lifted Conner off of Dick's back and set his bum down on the mat, and hit his older brother's face.

"Hey-ooww!" Dick frowned and held his aching, bruising cheek.

"You'll be doing each other's reports for the rest of the week," Bruce finished.

"What?! His reports are boring!" Jason pointed at Tim.

"His reports have too many casualties! And he's got dozens of them piled up!" Dick frowned at his little brother. Jason grinned smugly at him.

"Well, you better start then," Bruce opened the door for them. Before they left, they gave Conner some cheek pinches and ruffled his hair.

"Play again!" Conner called after his brothers.

"Later, okay?" Dick winked at him before closing the door.

"You play rough, don't you?" Bruce chuckled as he lifted Conner off the floor. "C'mon. We're going to take a bath first before dinner because you are one sweaty, smelly little boy,"

"Bath!" Conner repeated with a few excited claps.

Bruce stepped into the playroom's bathroom and filled up the tub with warm water. Conner demanded to be immediately put in the tub as he tried to pull off his socks. Bruce fondly laughed at the child and helped him out of his clothes and into the tub.

Half way into the no-tears shampoo lather, Conner let go of his bath toys and looked up at his daddy. "Can I call you mommy?"

Bruce froze for a moment, then went back to playing with his son's hair. He turned it into a Mohawk, then lathered some baby shower gel onto Conner's body. "Dick told you that, didn't he?"

The child nodded. "He said I came from your tummy and he said people who had babies in their tummies are mommies," he said solemnly.

"I could care less what you call me, love," said Bruce tenderly. "But I am your bearer, and you did come from me, and no title will ever change that. Now. About you throwing your brothers at that wall,"

Conner gasped and frowned. "I'm sorry,"

"No more throwing brothers at anything, okay?" Bruce stared to rinse off the soap from Conner's body. "Unless they ask for it, okay?" Bruce winked at him. The child squealed, and giggled and clapped, sending water everywhere. "Alright, alright, calm down,"

Conner was wrapped in a big fluffy towel, dried and put in some Nightwing pajamas. Dick was so going to cuddle his little brother to sleep if he saw this. Conner had everybody's uniforms as pajamas.

And sometimes, Bruce couldn't believe that they were all grown up. He saw it when Dick was teaching Jason something he didn't know with his coursework, or Tim and Jason helping each other with homework. He saw it when they were sharply dressed before going out to face the public. He saw it when they spoke in front of the press, representing different divisions of Wayne Enterprises. He saw it when they worked together with the League, senior, junior or probationary members. He saw it especially when they were taking care and responsibility of each other.

But then at times, Bruce was reminded that even if these boys were already adults with brilliant minds, they were still just children. They were children. They were his children, and they needed him alive.

Bruce set Conner down on some torn up foam mattress on the floor in an abandoned warehouse. Hopefully none of the thugs he had beaten up a while ago hadn't woken up and wasn't following the trail of blood coming from a stab wound on his side, and two bullet wounds on his right leg. His white suit was soaked through with blood, and torn at a lot of places, and Conner's own white tux was stained red. He took his jacket off, and tore it to pieces to wrap around his shot leg.

Getting abducted on the way to—and not in the middle of—business gathering was so not pretty. Bruce thought these thugs liked stealing pearl necklaces and diamond earrings from guests. He thought wrong. Also, getting abducted with your child was so distasteful Bruce wanted to throw up. Some thugs had no honor. There _were_ some who didn't involve children in their shit. But those guys, Bruce made sure they were beat up good and well, tender enough for a barbeque, because they put his son in danger.

The most fucked up thing, though? He lost his shit. He never thought he'd ever lose his shit like that. It was supposed to be easy. It was just a kidnapping. He'd been kidnapped so many times already. But no. Bruce learned that it wasn't that simple anymore. The moment they touched Conner—when they pinched his cheek, talking about some amount of money Bruce paid no attention to, something just snapped inside him and he started trying to break out of the ropes that tied him onto a pipe on the wall. Minutes later, he had broken free. He didn't think, and immediately took down the nearest thug.

It didn't take five minutes. He left several thugs lay on the floor bleeding, each with a broken rib and wrist at least, most of them barely breathing. It was after he untied Conner from his chair that he realized he'd been stabbed and shot.

Though it was a good thing to know that he hadn't lost his touch yet, considering he lost his shit.

And now, the adrenaline had completely worn off and he was in a shitload of pain. He pressed on this earpiece to turn it on, activating the GPS to send his coordinates to J'onn up on the Watchtower Bridge. He was thankful it hadn't fallen out as he moved through beating up the goons. He fell down beside Conner on the mattress.

"You okay?" he asked the child. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

Conner's lower lip quivered as he crawled over to his bearer. He shook his head. "You're hurt,"

Bruce put pressure on the stab wound on his side. When he let out a yelp, Conner started to sob. "It's alright, my love," Bruce placed a chaste kiss on Conner's head. "Help will be here soon,"

"Mommy," Conner cried.

He was dizzy, and he was sure that any moment now, he was going to pass out. But he wasn't going to. With all of his will, he was going to do his best not to pass out and scare his son that he might have died. He wasn't going to do that to him.

He took off his belt and bit onto it as he took the bullet out of his thigh. He tried his best not to vocally express the extreme pain he was in. when bullet number two was out about five minutes later, Conner was outright sobbing, so he hastily tied the pieces of his jacket around his leg.

"Shush, shush," Bruce whispered, pulling Conner to his chest.

Conner had taken to calling him 'mommy,' in private. Bruce found it endearing, and at times he was sorry that Conner only had one person two give both maternal and paternal titles to.

"I'm here. You're okay. You're safe,"

* * *

When Clark arrived at the Watchtower, it was like it was deserted. Almost all junior and probationary members were on assignment. The personnel were as busy as ever though. It was Mr Terrific on the bridge giving out missions.

It was quiet, and senior members weren't out and about like they used to. Mr Terrific was probably too busy overseeing the probationary members on their assignments. He greeted him, but had to go back to the screens he was manning. He asked about his teammates, but apparently they were all on Earth.

So he went to the cafeteria to have some coffee. He'd already said hi to Ma, and he wasn't ready to go show his ass at The Planet yet, so he was going to pass the time in the Watchtower. He also wasn't ready to show his face to Bruce. It was nice to see the cafeteria lady again, and that amazing coffee maker.

He was having a nice cup of coffee and a buttered bagel when J'onn's voice came through the speakers.

"Attention all available senior League members. This is an Omega Level situation. The Knight and the Sunbird have been located. All senior League members to the teleport pads now,"

Clark almost toppled over the coffee as he rushed to the bridge. "J'onn. What's going on? Who's Knight and Sunbird?"

"We're the only seniors here, Kal. Get on the pads," J'onn told him, then he turned to one of the personnel and told him the coordinates. "The others might—" his earpiece beeped. "Batman."

"I'm on the way there, J'onn," said the man on the other line.

That wasn't Bruce. There was a new Batman.

"I swear it Lex is behind this, I am going to make sure LexCorp goes down. Together with all its subsidiaries! I'll burn it all!"

Wait. Was that Dick? Dick was the new Batman?

"We'll be there in a moment," J'onn flew down to the pads and Clark followed.

He didn't have any more time to ask what was happening, because a second later they were in front of a warehouse in the of a ghost town in the middle of the night. Metropolis wasn't shiny and gold everywhere, and there were depressed areas, too. And that's exactly where they were. Diana and Shayera had just bust through a wall, and John rushed in providing light for everyone with J'onn right behind him. Moments later, the Batwing flew by, and Dick and Tim glided down towards the building.

Batman ran past Clark, headed towards the opening in the wall. Robin stopped for a moment to give him a glance from head to toe and said, "Oh, you have got to be kidding," he frowned and ran after everyone else. "This is so not the time,"

Clark went a moment later, trying to process what was happening. It was as if everybody had adjusted to his absence so well that they weren't sure what to do now that he was there.

Suddenly there was the sound of steady thumping in his ear. He hadn't heard it in a while, so he wasn't able to catch it as soon as they were beamed. That was Bruce's heartbeat.

"Mr Terrific," Diana said into her earpiece. "Have you notified Dr Thompson? We're ready to teleport,"

John had an unconscious Bruce on a construct stretcher; Shayera had her wings covering her front, trying to calm down an inconsolable child, telling him that everything was okay and that Bruce was just asleep; J'onn was out surveying the area where Bruce and the child were held in. A gust of wind with a red blur went past them not a second later, then stopped after he was done checking the rest of the building. Wally.

"Everyone okay?! Nobody's in here except for the unconscious mooks. I ran past Jason—he's on his way to Dr Thompson with clothes…" he trailed off when he saw Clark. "HEY!" Wally smiled at him. "You're back! How's it going?"

"Good, I guess?" said Clark hesitantly. Since when did a kidnap situation require the whole League?

"Dr Thompson has been notified. Beaming you there now, Wonder Woman," came Mr Terrific's answer on Diana's earpiece.

In a flash of white light, they were inside a white tiled room. It was a hospital. No, a clinic.

A beautiful, middle aged lady gave some towels and blankets to Shayera for the child, then led John into another room—a tiny surgery room, Clark guessed. John stepped out of the room a moment later, bearing orders from the doctor to put Shayera and Conner into one of the rooms so the child—his name was Conner according to the doctor—could be changed out of his bloody tux and wrapped in the blankets, and so that he could be cleaned up.

"Daddy okay?" Conner asked the winged woman.

_Daddy?_ Clark's eyes widened.

"Yeah, he's okay," answered Shayera as she put the bloody tux in a paper bag. "Dr Thompson's fixing him up right now. He'll be all good in no time, sweetie,"

"He was really angry," Conner frowned.

"He had every reason to be angry, son," said John, making Conner a teddy bear construct. "Now, hold on to this while we wait for him to come out of that room, okay?"

Conner nodded.

In the waiting room, nobody was talking. Dick and Tim went in the room Conner was in. Diana was leaning on a wall, staring at the surgery room's door like she had heat vision. Wally was fidgeting on the sofa near the concierge counter. J'onn was sitting rigidly next to Wally. None of them had really given him a second of eye contact since he got there. And this wasn't really a good thing to come home to.

Nobody was talking to him either. Dick was Batman. Bruce was abducted with his _son_. He had no idea what was happening.

"Where is he?!" a young man in his twenties with dark hair, in a leather jacket and a red domino mask barged in the clinic holding a duffel bag.

"FINALLY!" Wally zoomed up to him and grabbed the duffel and brought it into Conner's room.

Jason's eyes widened. The anger registered about a few seconds after his shock subsided. On instinct, he grabbed one of his hand cannons, unloaded the regular bullets, and then loaded it with the ones with the Kryponite bullets. He had been working with guns so long Diana couldn't stop him from loading the gun.

"What the fuck is _he_ doing here?!" he demanded from Diana and J'onn as he aimed the gun at Clark.

* * *

(1) Let's just agree that Jason didn't die. He just had a rebellious stage and found the red helmet lying around, okay? He's not legally dead. xD

(2) Beware The Batman. There was an episode where Professor Pyg and Mr Toad were targeting people who had done harm to animals. One of them was a fashion designer who, according to Bruce, "was known for his bold statements in leather."

* * *

Review please.


	8. Chapter 8

Unbeta'd, like the rest of the first chapters. Mistakes are mine. Please tell me if there are any mistakes. :D More shitty plot and writing, hooray!

Note: okay, last chapter, J'onn had said "Omega Level Situation" for Bruce and Conner. I didn't mean that in the Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics or classist sort of way. It's what the Watchtower calls the situations of highest priority. I've heard Mr Terrific say it once or twice through Justice League Unlimited.

* * *

"Jason, please put away the gun," said Diana as she cautiously moved forward.

"Please," Jason snorted. He didn't back down or lower the gun. "I waited five years for a chance to aim a gun at him with bullets that could actually kill him,"

"We're at a clinic, and Conner can hear from the other room. This isn't appropriate," Diana hissed.

"Oh, like anything about this whole situation is appropriate, Princess?" Jason was anything but calm. His other fist was clenched shut, his heart was beating as if it had run a marathon, and he wasn't going to listen to reason.

Dick and Wally stepped out of the room, leaving Conner with Tim, John and Shayera. "Jason, put the gun down," said Dick.

"Your promotion doesn't make you the boss of me," Jason didn't even look at anyone else besides Clark. "You think this is okay?" he demanded from Clark. "You think it's okay to come waltzing back into the Milky Way and everything will all be like how you left it?"

"You're making Kon, uncomfortable, Jason," frowned Wally. "Please, you have to calm down!"

"CALM DOWN?" Jason yelled. "You're asking me to calm down after all he's done!"

Clark, even though he was scared, didn't like that he was being accused of something he didn't do. Or something he didn't know he did. He wanted answers, too. "I didn't even do anything!"

No one reacted to him. Not even Wally, who had the only positive greeting for him when he arrived.

"EXACTLY!" Jason's voice rose again. "You didn't do anything! That's exactly what you did. You fucking left, and didn't do anything! Not a damn thing!" he had turned red from the blood rushing to his face, and he was breathing heavily.

Clark raised both hands in surrender. "Look, son—"

"I am NOT your fucking son." Jason cut him off. "Don't you fucking dare call me that again."

"Okay," said Clark cautiously. He was perfectly capable of taking the gun, but he didn't. He was going to explain himself, and hope that the boy would put the gun down. "Could I just please know what's going on?"

"Oh, so now we owe _you_ an explanation?" Jason was getting angrier by the minute. "When _you_ were the one who left without any?"

Diana sighed, and Clark looked around. Nobody except Jason would look him in the eye.

"I went to Krypton," Clark started. "I wanted to see what my home planet looked like—"

Jason started laughing bitterly. "Home?" he laughed so hard that he had to put the gun down, and take off his mask to wipe away the tears. Everyone else in the room was shocked at his reaction. "That is some amazing bullshitting right there, Superman. Who knew?"

"I'm not sure I follow—"

But Jason cut him off once more and aimed at the gun at him again. "You expect me to just take that bullshit excuse? Huh? You wanted to see your home planet? Newsflash, Boy Scout, your so called home planet is a piece of floating dead rock!"

"Jason, stop it!" Dick but in, but Jason dismissed him.

"Shut up, Dick!" Jason wasn't going to hold back now. He was going to give this son of a bitch a piece of his mind. "Home is where your heart is, right?" his voice continued rising. "Home is wherever your friends are! Hell, home might not be where your family is! It might be some shitty cave in the middle of fucking Mexico, but it's still home! I hate to burst your bubble. Krypton is where you come from, but Earth has been home to you more than you than that dead rock! You had a choice. Now go the fuck HOME!" (1)

For a while, there was silence. And Jason couldn't pick between crying, or punching or shooting Clark. And if anybody talked it'd be just to ask him to calm down. Well, he wasn't going to calm down. He wasn't going to stop hurting Clark back as much as he'd hurt them. So he punched him instead of shooting.

"JASON!" exclaimed Dick. He and Diana rushed to Clark's side and helped him up.

"I love Daddy's toys," Jason put the gun back in the holster on his right thigh, then pressed a kiss to the Kryptonite lined glove. "Goddamn, that felt good,"

"You're right," Clark said finally, wiping the blood dripping from his nose with the back of his hand. "Earth did adopt me, and it is my home, and after learning everything I could about Krypton, I believe I've earned the right to at least go see its remains—"

"But you have a duty here!" he didn't want to listen to any more of this. "You don't mark your mate and leave him with a red neon sign that says 'MY ALPHA DIDN'T WANT ME SO TAKE ME.' You don't leave your pregnant mate alone!"

Clark's eyes widened. "What?"

"You don't leave him to raise your child alone!"

That child. The child who was in the other room crying. Who was kidnapped and could have been hurt was his. Bruce got stabbed and shot twice protecting their son. He had a son. "He's my son…" he said absently.

"Damn right he's your son!" it was the loudest Jason had been yet. "He had your son and you left him!"

"I'd really appreciate it if you argued somewhere else," Dr Thompson stepped out of the room. "Now, I want you to stop yelling at this man,"

Jason looked at the doctor, then back at Clark, and hesitantly backed down.

"Good. Now," she started again. "You can take him home as soon as he's strong enough. He's recovering quickly, probably due," she looked at Clark, "to the presence of his alpha—"

"I'm his alpha!" said Jason, glaring at Clark. Clark didn't dare disagree.

She sighed. "As I was saying, it might be due to _the_ alpha he partially bonded with," Dr Thompson continued. "But Mr Kent," she frowned when Clark looked at him with a pained expression. "I believe it's best for you to leave. Bruce hasn't gone back to his regular heat cycle, and your presence might force him to go improperly into heat. And going into heat in his condition right now is going to take a lot of pain killers and a lot of suppressants."

Dick nodded. "Thank you," he turned to Clark.

"Kal, we need to go," said Diana as she took Clark's arm.

Clark brushed Diana off and stepped away from anyone who was near. "I…" he couldn't find the words.

He didn't know whether to apologize, or burst into that room, see Bruce, or to go into the room Conner was in and take a good look at the kid and introduce himself. He didn't know what to feel. Guilt for causing so much pain to the people around him; regret for not wasting so much time—time that he could have spent finishing his bond with Bruce, taking care of him while he carried their baby, taking care of both of them; anger—mostly at himself—for being so self centered, for thinking only of his own wants.

He had wasted five years. Five years that could've been so wonderful.

"I'm sorry, I need to go," Clark finally managed to say.

He went past Jason and out the door.

"YEAH, GO HOME TO YOUR DEAD ROCK!" he could hear Jason behind him as he flew. The boy had gone after him out of the door. "I'LL NEVER LET YOU SEE THEM! NEVER!"

Conner hopped off the bed, all cleaned up and fresh, opened the door and rushed over to Jason. "Jay!" he cried, putting his arms up, reaching for his big brother. "Jay!"

Jason closed the door to the clinic, and knelt down to catch the child. "Thank God you're okay,"

"No more yelling please," Conner said as he put his tiny arms around Jason's neck. "No more fighting and no more hurt?"

"No more," he pressed his lips to the child's forehead, and his nose to his hair. "C'mon. We need to get Bruce home," he stood up and took the child up with him.

The League watched as Bruce's boys came together for a group hug, with Conner in the middle, feeling safe and loved in his big brothers' embrace.

Jason wasn't going to wait for Bruce to wake up. Someone was sure to come in this clinic, and it was sure that some wild rumour was going to spread and he didn't want to deal with anything. He was going to bring the hospital to their house, if that's what it was going to take.

John volunteered to make a stretcher for Bruce so that he could be transported home. Dr Thompson gave Conner a quick look to check if he was alright, and agreed that they could both go home. She had complete faith in Alfred's medical skills, so she didn't have to worry. But she did require them to call her if anything happened.

The League of godparents, minus John, said their goodbyes to their favourite godson, and left him with promises that they were going to visit soon. Conner gave his godparents kisses on their cheeks, then received a little snuggling from Uncle Wally before they left in a beam of white light.

When it came to Bruce and his son's safety, they spared nothing. Even if he didn't need to be teleported, if it meant it was going to protect them and their privacy, everybody agreed with it. Besides, the Watchtower _was _Bruce's.

John, Bruce and Conner appeared in Bruce's room, where Alfred was waiting. Dick and Tim were beamed to wherever they left the Batwing, and Jason took his bike home.

"Alfred!" cried Conner, running into his foster grandfather's arms. "Mommy hurt!"

"Conner! Oh, thank goodness," Alfred held the child close. "It's alright. We're going to help your mother get better, okay? For now, he needs you to be a big boy, okay?"

Conner nodded. He looked at Uncle John, who was in civilian clothes, set Bruce down gently onto the bed. "Nothing he can't handle," said John, "But we have a problem. Well, Jason thinks it's hell on earth. We're not sure how to take it quiet yet,"

"Ah, yes," Alfred set Conner down, and started giving Bruce some medical attention. "I hear Mr Kent is back. I'm sure getting back into field work won't be a problem,"

John watched as Alfred disinfected Bruce's hand before putting an IV on him. "Yeah, but he is shaken up, even more than Kon. You should've seen the look on his face, Alfred, learning what he'd left,"

Alfred pulled up the sheets to Bruce's chest. Conner climbed up on the bed and carefully placed himself next to his mommy under the sheets. "Night night?" he asked Alfred.

"Don't you want to have something to drink first, sir?" asked Alfred, "Warm milk?"

Conner shook his head. "Nuh-uh," he answered.

Alfred frowned a little. "It will be difficult for Mr Kent," he beckoned John to come with him. He turned off the lights and closed the door.

"Yeah," John agreed as he followed Alfred out of the room, through the halls and into the kitchen. "Jason was pissed,"

"I'm sure he was, sir," said Alfred evenly. He poured John a cup of tea, then another three mugs of hot chocolate, and sat with him at the counter. "He always talked about punching him with Bruce's Kryponite knuckles and shooting him,"

"Oh, he punched him alright," John took the cup of tea. "Thank you," he took a sip. "If Clark looked like someone threw his dog to the sun, Jason looked so happy with himself he didn't know whether to laugh or cry,"

A moment later, three young men dressed in sweatpants and oversized shirts entered the kitchen, and took their respective mugs from the counter. "He isn't coming anywhere near here," said Jason. "I swear, if I catch him here, I'll fucking shoot,"

"Sir, one more word and I will revoke your coffee privileges," said Alfred before another argument could start. All three boys stared at the butler. "Thank you. Now, finish those drinks, call Mrs Kent and inform her of tonight, and straight to bed, young sirs. I'm sure Master Bruce will be asking for you first thing in the morning,"

The brothers quietly finished their hot chocolates, deposited their mugs in the sink, and left.

"Whatever your superpowers are, I want them," said John.

"More tea, sir?"

* * *

It was a few minutes past midnight. There had to be something he could do to clear his mind.

Clark was mucking out the stables. They only had two horses (2), and thankfully they remembered him. They didn't neigh or get spooked when he entered the stable. He readied his tools, and the wheelbarrow, and changed into some rubber work boots. He took one of the horses, Ruby, out of her stall and put her in another one. Maybe tomorrow he'd take them out for a ride.

He parked the wheelbarrow outside of Ruby's stall, grabbed the pitchfork and started to clean. It didn't completely clear out his mind, but at least he was doing something. He ended up cleaning the whole of the horse stable, even floating up to the ceiling to dust the trusses and the ceiling.

Halfway into mucking out Sapphire's, the other horse, stable, Clark found the pitchfork's hollow metal handle crushed in his hands. He sighed. He loosened his grip and made a mental note to fix it in the morning.

At two thirty, Clark was cleaning out the barn. The barn was as clean when he got there. As clean as Pa could get it. Clark could do it better, because he was a strong, strapping young man. And there he was in the barn, with the pitchfork in his hands, sweat running down his temple with the light of a single bulb and the moon on his back. The cows weren't paying any attention to him anyways.

"Clark?"

Clark turned around and saw Ma at the door.

"Ma," said Clark as he wiped the sweat off his forehead with his arm, "What are you doing up?"

Ma entered the barn and pulled the robe around her tighter to shield herself from the cold. "I should be asking you that," she said, frowning because she knew something was bothering her son. "Come on. Put down that fork and we'll talk about whatever's on your mind,"

Clark obeyed and put the pitchfork back in the tool shed, and followed Ma back to the house. She made Clark sit at the table, and made him some hot milk with honey, vanilla and cinnamon. Clark stared at it when Ma set it down in front of him as she sat across from him.

It took a while, but Ma was willing to wait. She wasn't going to push him to talk; she just knew Clark was going to come to him.

"Did you know?" Clark was still looking at the steaming mug of milk in front of him.

"Yes," answered Ma.

"How long?"

"A few weeks after he was born,"

Clark closed his eyes, wishing it was all a dream. That he'd wake up soon. That this was maybe one of Scarecrow's gasses, or maybe a mind controlling villain. Anything to wipe away the pain he'd caused to so many people.

"Having Conner without you took a lot out of him," Ma continued sadly. "He stayed in France, in a little vacation house until your mark wore off. Your Pa and I stayed with him until he went back to Gotham two years ago,"

Another long moment passed before Clark opened his eyes and spoke again. "He hates me, doesn't he?" he looked up at his mother.

"No, he doesn't,"

"You don't know that,"

"Yes, I do," Ma insisted. "You know why?"

Clark found himself staring at his mug again, so he looked up at Ma once more. She was genuinely smiling at him now.

"When you were gone, The Daily Planet went through a tough time, enough for it to close down for good. But Bruce bought it so when you came back, you'd still have a job,"

Clark stared at her.

"The day Conner was born?" she continued. "He was wearing one of your flannels all through eight hours of hard work. He named him after you. Conner Joseph,"

His eyes widened in shock and disbelief.

"And to protect you, he gave Conner your surname, but didn't let him use it. So that when you came back, no one would be going after you. No press, no Omega Rights Group and whatnot,"

Bruce saved his job. He wore his clothes. He wore his clothes when he had their son. He named their son after him. He gave their son his name. He hid his name from the public. That meant he did have a right to them, right?

"That's how I know he doesn't hate you. That's how I know he cares," Ma reached into the pocket of her robe. "Dick wanted you to have this," she set a wallet sized photo on the table, and slid it over to Clark.

Clark lifted it off the table, and looked at it closely. It was a recently taken photo of Bruce and four year old Conner. And it was the first time he had gotten a proper look at them.

"He looks so much like you," said Ma, moving over to Clark so she could look at the photo. "He loves the sun just like you,"

"Ma," Clark choked out.

"It's not too late, dear," Ma pulled Clark to her chest, and Clark hugged back. "There is still hope. I know you'll do the right thing. And that isn't mucking out the stables at three in the morning, even if you wanted to clear your head," she lifted up Clark's chin so he'd look at her. "You have a family waiting for you, Clark. It's going to be difficult, but I know you won't give up,"

Clark looked at the picture again. Yeah. He wasn't going to give up. Even if Jason had Kryptonite.

Easier said than done.

* * *

When Alfred told the boys to go to bed after they finished their drinks, he meant for them to go to bed in their own rooms, not in Bruce's room. Dick was on Bruce's chaise; Jason was sprawled on the floor opposite Bruce's bed, lying on his comforter with his pillow by his feet; and Tim was on the sofa, using the cushions as a pillow under some sheets. He sighed as he set the tray down on a nearby table.

"Don't wake them up," Bruce groaned. "They look tired,"

"So do you, sir," said Alfred, moving over to his IV to give him a heavenly dose of painkillers.

"Thank you," whispered Bruce with a sigh of relief. He sat up, careful not to pull the stitches he knew were there, holding the stab wound together, and careful not to move his leg too much.

Conner stirred beside him, burying himself further into Bruce's uninjured side, moaning in complaint of the movements Bruce was making. Bruce smiled, happy and relieved that his boy was safe. He ran his hand through the child's hair. At least that was one obstacle down.

"I'm sure," Alfred said softly enough for only Bruce to hear.

"I can feel it," said Bruce, trying his best not to move too much. He could feel that his body wasn't in the right temperature. "He's back," he winced, feeling a sharp pain going up his injured side. He could also feel the tingling in his toes, and a kind of warmth in his gut that threated to fire up. "Keep him away. At least for a few weeks. I don't want him to disturb my cycle when it hasn't even started,"

"I believe Master Jason made a few impressive threats," Alfred handed Bruce a mug of tea. "Enough to give you those few weeks you asked for, with of course, some help from Mrs Kent,"

Bruce chuckled. It was Ma after all. "Has she been informed?" he took a sip of the tea.

"Yes, sir," Alfred took the mug of tea back when Bruce looked like he'd had enough. "Bruce," he said seriously. "You know you can't keep yourself and Conner away from him—"

"I know," Bruce bit out. "I know. I'll…have to tell the boys, I know," he looked warmly over Jason, who was snoring and drooling all over his comforter. He sighed fondly. "He's going to be so pissed,"

"I heard he punched him,"

"Really?"

* * *

(1) "Family is not always home," – Cass Cain, Red Robin #17  
(2) I like to think they have horses okay. It's a farm. xD


End file.
